Page 31 of Possession

“I really love this band.” He turned his head and smiled at me.

“Me too. It really helps me concentrate on the work.” I leaned to the side and turned up the music.

We’d been sitting cross-legged, side by side for about an hour and a half sketching. We’d spend most of our time like this, sitting in my den working on something. Today, I had originally planned to draw something Dali would’ve been proud of, but instead, I penciled the curve of Declan’s jaw, the slope of his nose, and before I knew it I had almost a complete portrait.

“You’re getting better.” He gave me a sideways smirk.

“I have a good teacher,” I said as he leaned in and my heart sputtered.

We’d had our first kiss a few weeks ago and since then we’d been stealing kisses whenever we could. It was silly, but I loved when Declan would take a few minutes between classes at school and kiss me thoroughly in an alcove or an abandoned hallway. The warning bell would ring and being tardy would be the last thing on our minds.

Our art projects were forgotten as his mouth moved eagerly against mine. I didn’t care that my parents were in the kitchen and could possibly catch us. He tasted like toothpaste and something sweet, just him, and as he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled my lip with his teeth, I exhaled an unsteady breath. I’d lost myself in the feel of his lips, and the way his fingers tangled in my hair. I whined when he pulled away and his chuckle heated my cheeks. He might’ve been laughing, but he was just as out of breath as I was, and something told me he was holding back on purpose. We were too young to want more.

Tell that to my heart.

“I like kissing you.” I scrunched my nose in embarrassment as the truth slipped from my lips too easily.

His chuckle turned into a hearty laugh and my stomach filled with butterflies. I made an attempt to swat his shoulder but he grabbed my wrist gently and brought our hands together by wrapping his fingers with mine.

“I hate it when I have to leave.” His smile fell and the color of his eyes deepened.

I looked down at our joined hands and how they fit together. My hand was so small compared to his, but it didn’t feel awkward.

“I hate it, too.”

I did. I missed him too much when he wasn’t around, and I worried that his moods turned dark when I was gone. He struggled so much between his real thoughts and the voices that he heard. He’d told me about them before we were official, and I had to admit to myself that it scared me at first, but he was always so honest with me, and if I was being truthful, I kind of liked that he was special like that. I’d told him as much, and since then… our relationship… it changed, and he’d become more than just a friend, he’d become important to me. We’d become important to each other.

The music switched and the sound of Low turned over to Interpol and the mood lifted.

“If it keeps snowing like this I might hide in your closet and stay the night.” His smile was mischievous.

I leaned over and pecked him on the cheek before I said, “Promise?”

“Over the Ocean”by Low played and reverberated off the walls of the studio. The song washed over me. The wave of it crashed and consumed me as my eyes stung with unshed tears. I inhaled a deep calming breath as I pushed away the memory. Declan had invited me to stay tonight, he’d let me in, and as my eyes found his and the familiar music played, I wanted to go back to the den on that snowy day. Start over and never let him leave.

“I can’t believe you still listen to this.” I placed my canvas on an easel he’d set up for me with shaky hands.

He nodded before he pulled on his white t-shirt. He ran his hand through his messy hair and his eyebrows knotted. “Sometimes… sometimes it’s the only thing that will help me paint.”

I brought my eyes to his, grateful for the cotton that covered his chiseled chest. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to speak like an actual adult if he’d stayed shirtless the whole time.

“I… I haven’t painted in years.” My throat felt tight, and my tongue was like sandpaper as he dropped my gaze and turned to his own canvas.

“Start with the basics, Paige.” He sucked in a breath. My name affected him and I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. “Paint what you know.” He wouldn’t look at me as he scanned his depiction of my eyes.

He scooted the work stool that stood between us closer to me. His palette was filled with blue, purple, gray, orange, and red. I wanted to lift my brush and dip it into the paint, I wanted to see if I still existed. See if Paige Simon had truly died, or had I just been hibernating. I was scared stiff. Declan started to work and I couldn’t help but watch him. His hands moved across the painting like a skilled musician played the piano. My pulse was a mess and my stomach had torqued itself into knots. My canvas stared back at me, just as blank as I’d become.

“Declan, I—”

He stopped mid stroke, his head tilted down, and he asked, “Are you nervous?”

“What if I’ve changed too much?” My voice was a shell.

“I think it’s all still there.” He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, but his voice had grown strength, and I felt the hope ignite inside my veins. It blossomed in my chest like a brilliant red rose. “Talent doesn’t fade away.”

Talent.

I’d let myself believe we were talking about us, not my ability to create art.

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